


Dorothy's Birthday

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Whilenotwriting's birthday, which is more than reason enough for celebrating! I'm so glad I met you, lady! I hope you like this - there isn't any knitting (sorry about that) or really any angst (sort of sorry about that too), but there's Dot! And presents! And a delicious chocolate cake, so maybe it all evens out in the end. ♥♥♥</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dorothy's Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Whilenotwriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whilenotwriting/gifts).



Phryne sat at the writing desk in her small library, studying her calendar for the upcoming week. She tapped her fingers on the desk, her eyes unfocused. She’d just noticed that it was almost Dot’s birthday, and given the debacle that theater tickets had proven to be two years ago and the fact that she’d been on her way to England on Dot’s birthday last year, she needed a good idea for this year’s gift. Sadly, her mind was a blank.

Pushing back irritably from her desk, she rose, snagging her hat and her car coat off of the rack in the entryway. She headed toward the kitchen, where the woman in question sat at the table, one hand resting on her rounded belly, a steaming cup of cocoa at her elbow as she perused a stack of magazines that might hold a clue in their most recent investigation. Mr. Butler was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m going out, Dot,” Phryne said, setting her cloche on the table as she shrugged on her coat. “I need to clear my head. I’ll be down at the station or at the college if you should need to reach me.”

“All right, miss,” Dot said, turning the page. “I’ll keep going on this. I’ll let you know if anything comes to light.”

“Perfect, thank you,” Phryne settled her hat on her head, securing it with a wickedly sharp pin, and flashed a smile at her assistant. “Tell Mr. B that I’ll be back for dinner?”

Dot nodded, and Phryne was out the door. First stop, the station. Perhaps Jack or Hugh would have an idea she could appropriate for herself.

*****

Pushing through the doorway of City South, Phryne was pleased to see Hugh Collins at the front desk. Since he’d been promoted to Senior Constable, he only worked the desk occasionally, a fact that brought him great pride.

“Hello, Hugh!” She sang out the greeting as sweetly as possible. She knew that Hugh still had moments when she terrified him, even after more than two years. To be fair, she had given him more reason than most to wonder about her motives, but almost never in a way that would get him into trouble. Well, not too much trouble, anyway.

“Miss Fisher,” he responded, looking as startled by her presence as always. “Ah, the inspector is in a meeting, I’m afraid, so—”

“That’s all right,” she said, stepping up to the desk. “I’ll just ask you my question first, then. It’s very important.” She crossed her arms on the edge and gave him a serious look. “I need an idea for a birthday gift for Dot.”

Hugh seemed to deflate a little—possibly with relief that her question was one he could answer. Really, that was a bit of an overreaction. It wasn’t as if she tried to get confidential case information from him very often anymore.

“Oh, ah…” He smiled, his handsome face lighting up at the mention of his wife. “Well, I bought her some material to make curtains for our kitchen and a new eggbeater—she’s always saying how hers is falling apart.” He looked at Phryne uncertainly. “I don’t know what else to give her. Maybe yarn for a knitting project? She’d probably love that.”

“Hm, she probably would.” _Not exactly my style, though._ She pursed her lips and glanced over at Jack’s office door, which had just unlatched. Straightening, she turned back to Hugh. “I think I’ll keep looking for ideas, but thank you!”

Turning, she watched as Jack escorted a pretty young woman from his office; the woman’s eyes were red, and she clutched a handkerchief. _Victim or victim’s next of kin, most likely._ Phryne stifled the smile that always sprung to her lips at the sight of Jack, keeping her expression neutral.

“Thank you, inspector,” the young woman said, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. “I am so grateful that you’re on this case.” She reached out to lay a hand on Jack’s arm, and Phryne’s eyebrows went up. _Perhaps not as bereaved as all that, then._

“You’re very welcome, Miss Potts,” he said in his deep voice. “We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions.” With a nod, he opened the half-door into the lobby for her, leaving her no choice but to step through.

Phryne smiled sympathetically at the unfortunate Miss Potts—unfortunate because the dashing inspector was already taken and therefore resistant to her weeping wiles—and stepped through the door that Jack continued to hold open. He met her amused gaze with his own.

“And what brings you here, Miss Fisher? Need police assistance on your missing aeroplane case?”

Phryne scoffed, sweeping past him. “Hardly, Jack. I’ve nearly solved that already.” In his office, she took a seat in the chair she’d come to think of as hers, propping her heels up on the edge of his desk. Jack closed the door behind her and came to lean against the front of his desk, his hand dropping to her ankle, his fingers tracing soft whorls against her stocking under the edge of her trousers.

“No, I have a far more pressing line of inquiry I’m following,” she said, smiling up at him. They’d been lovers almost since the day she’d returned from London, exhausted from four straight weeks of flying, and she hadn’t regretted taking him to her bed for even a moment.

“What’s that, then,” he responded, his warm hand now cupping her calf.

“It’s Dot’s birthday in less than a week, and I don’t have a gift for her, nor do I have any good ideas.” She felt her mouth droop into a frown; he tilted his head to look at her.

“No operetta tickets this time?” His mouth quirked up at the corners, and she knew he was joking, but she answered him anyway.

“Definitely not, Jack. I don’t want to risk another evening of murder. Dot enjoys what we do, but I’m not sure she’d appreciate that the way you or I would.” She smiled when he flashed her a quick grin. “Plus, I think she’s still in mourning for Gwilym Evans. She framed the playbill that he signed for her that night.”

“Well, you could get her a garter knife to match the lockpick set you gifted her two Christmases ago,” he laughed as she gave him an exaggeratedly innocent look. “Well, I’d prefer that you didn’t get her a gun like yours, if you can avoid it. Too much paperwork.”

Phryne smiled cheekily up at him. “I definitely won’t do that, Jack.” She withdrew her legs from his desk, feeling his fingers trail along her skin. “My gun was custom made.” With a hard kiss on his laughing mouth, she left, calling behind her, “Maybe Mac will have a better idea. See you at dinner, darling!”

*****

When Phryne stepped into the library at the college, she didn’t see any students at the tables, but she could hear the murmur of voices from the far end of the room. Heading that way, she stopped in the doorway, hip-shot, a smile on her face.

“Would you look at this? All three of the people I wanted to see in one place!”

Jane, Mac, and Leigh looked up at her, smiling. Her ward had managed to convince the board at her school that the college library would meet her scholastic needs far more than the smaller collection available to their students. And since she was academically gifted and had made it clear that she wanted to pursue medicine, they’d made allowances for her to spend a couple of hours twice a week here instead of on the school campus. Jane took full advantage of that time, shadowing Leigh and reading everything she could get her hands on. Since Mac worked at the college in addition to the morgue, it wasn’t surprising that the three of them would lunch together regularly.

“Miss Phryne! What are you doing here?” Jane jumped up from her chair and came forward for a hug and kiss.

“I came to throw myself on your tender mercies,” Phryne said, moving forward to lay a hand on Mac’s shoulder where she was sitting across from her lover. Leigh raised one hand to cover her full mouth and the other to wave at Phryne. The three of them were clustered around Leigh’s desk, their sandwiches—Phryne recognized Mr. Butler’s hand in the thickly sliced ham in front of Jane—lying on their brown paper wrappings.

“Well, you can’t have my lunch,” Mac said wryly, though she smiled up at her friend.

“I wouldn’t say no if someone wanted to share, but that’s not why I’m here.” Phryne nudged Jane back into her chair and waved at them to continue eating. She leaned a hip against Leigh’s desk, and hummed in pleasure as Jane cut her remaining half sandwich in half again, offering it up. Phryne took a bite, chewing and swallowing as the other three did the same.

“I am looking for ideas for a gift for Dot,” she said, pinching a piece of ham out of the sandwich and popping it in her mouth. “Her birthday is next week, and I have no ideas at all.”

“Ooh,” Jane said. “There was a set of Beatrix Potter books at Henderson’s—she liked that serial about animals in the magazine, maybe she’d like those?”

Phryne nodded slowly. “She probably would, and she’d likely bung them in the nursery if she didn’t.”

“Has she read _The Story of Doctor Doolittle_?” Leigh’s soft voice drew Phryne’s attention.

“I don’t think so,” Phryne shook her head. “Isn’t that the man who talks to animals?”

“Yes, it’s rather delightfully fantastic. I think she’d enjoy it.” Leigh smiled. “I read it when it first came out—I think there are several of them now, so if she liked it, there’d be more to read.”

“Hm, she probably would like that.” Phryne took an absent bite of sandwich, chewing thoughtfully.

“The woman’s expecting. Why don’t you give her a week’s paid vacation? Some time away from you might do her good.” Mac followed this sardonic statement by taking a large bite of her own sandwich, her eyes twinkling with good humor.

Phryne poked her tongue out at her friend, but then laughed. “She does put up with quite a bit from me,” Phryne said. “But that would be a little redundant. She’s planning to cut back on her hours after the baby comes, and I’ve already told her that I’ll pay her for the weeks she’s taking off then.”

Popping the last of her sandwich in her mouth, Phryne stood, dusting off her hands.

“Well, thank you very much for your ideas. I’ll take them under advisement.” She ran a hand over Jane’s hair. “And thank you for sharing your lunch, darling. I’ll see you at home this evening.”

Her mouth finally empty, Jane beamed up at Phryne. “I might stop through Henderson’s on my way back to school, just in case.”

“Just be sure that you _do_ get back to school, won’t you? I know how you are in that bookshop.”

Jane nodded sheepishly. She’d lost track of time in the bookshop more than once, but Phryne didn’t really have the heart to chide her for it. With a wave at Mac and Leigh, she headed out again, still puzzling.

*****

When Phryne got back home, it was after five o’clock, and she was exhausted. She’d stopped at Madame Fleuri’s (nothing for Dot, though they’d shown her some lovely silk lingerie that she’d just had to have for herself) and the chocolatier that Dot liked (she’d already done that, and she hated to repeat herself) and even the jewelry store (all of the items there felt too flashy for Dot). Hanging up her hat and coat, she moved into the parlor, flopping onto the plush cushions of the chaise, her head resting against the high back.

When Mr. Butler came toward her with a glass of her favorite whiskey, she gave him a tired smile.

“Thank you, Mr. B,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Of course, miss,” he smiled at her. “Would you like me to make you tea?”

“That would be divine, thank you.”

With a nod, he left the room and Phryne sipped her whiskey, her thoughts whirling. When Mr. Butler returned, she lifted her head.

“Mr. B, do you have any ideas about what I can give Dot for her birthday next week?” She knew that her voice reflected her frustration.

“Well,” Mr. Butler said in his warm, slow way, setting the tray on the table in the middle of the room. “It strikes me that Dorothy cares deeply for her family, in all of its guises. Perhaps a gathering of those she loves would resonate with her?”

Phryne’s jaw dropped. “A party? Mr. B, you’re a genius!” She sat up, her empty whiskey glass clicking against the tray. “That’s the perfect thing. I’ll invite the people who love her, and we’ll surprise her with a fete.” Her face lit up as she tapped a finger against her teeth in thought.

“Always happy to help, Miss,” he said equably.

“Dinner, I think, for… eleven, possibly twelve? You’ll join us, won’t you? And perhaps your chocolate cake for dessert?”

“With the chocolate frosting?” His calm smile was a balm to Phryne’s nerves.

“Perfect,” she said, nodding her head. “On her birthday, I think—that’s next Wednesday.”

“Excellent,” Mr. Butler said.

“I’ll contact everyone tomorrow.” Phryne reached out for one of the cucumber sandwiches he’d included on the tray, her voice trailing off as she planned. “Bert and Cec, I think, and Alice will come too, of course. And Mac and Leigh, Jane—that’s enough. I can invite Aunt Prudence, but I doubt that she’ll come.” She didn’t notice when Mr. Butler withdrew.

*****

The night of Dot’s birthday party was warm and clear, and the party itself went off without a hitch. Phryne thought that Hugh performed his part brilliantly, guiding the guest of honor blindfolded through the front door of Wardlow, where all of her family—never just friends, this group—waited to celebrate the fact that she’d been born. Dot, with pregnancy hormones raging, cried when they all shouted “Surprise!” as Hugh drew off the kerchief that obscured her vision, and then laughed as they each came to her to hug her and wish her happy.

Dinner was delightful, a beef Wellington that Mr. Butler knew was Dot’s favorite—Phryne beamed at him when he sat down with them. Dot exclaimed more than once over the food and the table full of so many people she loved. Phryne could tell that Dot almost cried again when each of them presented her with a wrapped gift.

Jane had indeed bought her a full set of Beatrix Potter books, and Mac and Leigh gave her _Doctor Doolittle_ and a box of chocolates to eat as she read. She let out an “ooh” at the lovely bottle of bath oil that Cec and Alice presented her with, and Phryne would have sworn that Bert blushed when Dot thanked him for the remarkably soft yarn he’d found—“I thought you could make somethin’ fer the babe,” he grumbled with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

Dot was thrilled with the curtain fabric Hugh gave her, and she laughed and turned the handle on the shiny eggbeater while Hugh pretended to defend himself. Phryne laughed out loud at the shining knife in a leather sheaf Jack presented her with—it didn’t match her lockpicks, but it was pretty and feminine and very very sharp.

Phryne had decided that if Dot was going to be up at all hours of the night with a newborn, she’d need a lovely robe. She’d gone back to the Fleuri sisters and had them make one in a gorgeous rose satin embroidered with flowers and small animals. When Dot held it up, tears in her eyes, Phryne grinned.

“Every mother needs a little something to remember that she’s also a woman,” she said with a smile, and a wink at Hugh, who blushed beet red.

Phryne was interested to note that Dot blushed herself when she opened Mr. Butler’s gift: a tin of powdered cocoa and a large jar of his homemade tomato jam.

“You noticed?” Dot whispered, her hands coming up to cover her suddenly scarlet cheeks.

“That you were doctoring your cocoa with tomato jam?” He smiled softly, his eyes warm. “Of course I noticed. Pregnancy brings out some rather strange cravings in every woman, I’m told.” The rest of the guests smiled as understanding dawned.

“Well, I only hope it doesn’t last. I prefer them separate—though the tomatoes do add a certain something to the flavor of the cocoa.” Dot smiled as Mr. Butler chuckled and patted her hand.

After dinner, Phryne put jazz music on the record player that made everyone want to dance—Cec pulled Alice into the cleared center area of the parlor, and Hugh spun Dot around as Mac led Leigh into a swinging, laughing Charleston. Phryne and Jack watched from the sidelines, cheering everyone on, as Jane and Mr. Butler clapped for the dancers.

Late that night, after Dot and Hugh retired to the spare bedroom at Wardlow, Phryne having decreed that it was far too late—and Dot was far too pregnant—for the birthday girl to travel to their little bungalow, Phryne turned to her own bed partner.

“I think that went over well, Jack,” she said quietly, smiling through her fatigue.

“Completely,” he agreed, pulling her close, her silky pajamas shifting smoothly against his palms.

“I hope that Dot enjoyed it as much as we did,” she murmured, nestling against him and breathing in his spicy scent.

“I’d be willing to wager that she is remembering you in her prayers tonight, Miss Fisher.” He dropped a kiss to her hair. “That young woman has a backbone of steel, but it wasn’t until she met you that she learned to use it.”

“It’s only fair. She has enriched my life just by being in it.” Her words were a mumble as sleep overcame her.

“Sisters will do that,” he murmured, and felt her still, then relax.

“They truly do, Jack,” she whispered. “They truly do.”


End file.
